


Pros and Cons

by Raine_Wynd



Series: Author's Favorites [17]
Category: Leverage, The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Canon Pairing, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Families of Choice, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Law of averages, Military, Post-Series, Veterans, worlds collide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leave the weapons to the professionals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What the hell were you thinking?” Face demanded of the man in black. “I thought I taught you better.”

The young man brightened abruptly and grinned. “Well, I wasn’t going to blow the place up like you would,” he noted. “I was gonna go check the place out.”

“Wearing clothes that make you look like a thief?” Face ran a hand through his graying hair and sighed resignedly. “JT, when I told you to make me proud –”

“I know, I know, Dad, don’t be you, but you know I can’t let a guy like Gregory Mason just get away with ripping people off, especially when he’s recruiting vets.” JT waved a hand at the flyer on the coffee table. “He promises paid training, no computer experience necessary, and a guaranteed position at graduation. But it’s a lie. I was just gonna go see if there were any records so I could –”

Face sighed again and sat down. “And do what? Guy like Gregory Mason’s got money and power – and you’re the son of a guy who spent almost thirty years being a wanted fugitive, and you’re a vet with PTSD. Do you really want to put yourself out there like that? More than you already have?”

JT shook his head, and Face was reminded again that his son had his stubbornness. “You think he’d bring that up?”

“Hell yes, if it discredited you. If I was him, I’d do everything I could to make me look good and you look bad.”

JT sighed. “But Dad, he took ten thousand dollars of my money.”

“Ten thousand – ” Face winced. “Is that where your savings went?”

“Yeah.” JT looked embarrassed. “I didn’t want to tell you because you’d give me that look – oh geez, Dad, that one, like you expect me to know better.”

“Hell yes I expect you to know better. Who the hell taught you how to spot a con?”

“It sounded legit, Dad. Mason’s company is registered with the BBB, and –”

“That should’ve been your first clue. JT, why didn’t you come talk to me when you signed up for this?”

“Because you keep wanting to smother me like I’m eleven and it’s two days after the judge said you were free,” JT muttered. “I’m not eleven any more, Dad.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” Face studied his son. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be able to live with your head up high and not worry about the kind of shit you had to worry about until that day in court.” He hugged his son tight before stepping back. “You weren’t planning on stealing your money back, were you?”

“Maybe,” JT hedged, and Face glared at him.

“But I gotta do something, Dad. Know anybody who can make this happen? I know you don’t want to risk your parole, but if Hannibal hears about this –”

Face glared at his son. “You are **not** telling Hannibal, or the others. We don’t need a repeat of your sixteenth birthday.”

“But Dad, how else was I supposed to spring Murdock for the party?”

Face rolled his eyes, well aware that his son was, in many ways, his younger self. Raising him on the run hadn’t helped, either, but Face hadn’t wanted his child to wonder if his father loved him. “You also got yourself and BA arrested, remember? By MPs?”

“Come on, don’t be so reluctant,” JT wheedled. “Look, I was just going to scout it out so we’d have something to bring with us.”

Face eyed his son warily. “To where and to whom?”

JT grabbed his phone and showed Face the website he’d found for Leverage Consulting and Associates, Inc.

Face groaned. “Just because it’s on the Internet doesn’t mean whoever’s behind this isn’t some scammer, hoping to lure people in.”

Annoyed, JT said, “You didn’t raise me to be that stupid.”

“No, but it wouldn’t be the first time you went into something hoping for the best.”

“Then come with me on Tuesday to meet them. They’re just down in Portland. I know it’s a drive from Seattle, but it’s not that far.”

Face studied his son as if seeing him for the first time. JT had inherited his mother’s wavy black hair, creamy complexion, and golden brown eyes, but his facial structure, build, and height were all from Face. At twenty-two, JT was the same age as Face had been when Face’s life had been turned upside down. For the last eleven years, Face had been living the dream: no more looking over his shoulder for the police, no more worrying that the next job the team took would be their last. He’d been able to live in one place, in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, work as a salesman for a car broker, and with his son able to go to a real school, not home schooling in the back of a GMC van. Now JT wanted to invite possible danger – again – into their lives. The terms of the parole the A-Team had specifically stated that they were not to get involved with rescuing the citizenry or other vigilante operations. Yet Face knew that his son was right, and the old fire to see justice prevail surged through Face.

“Didn’t you promise me that if you went into the Army, you’d keep your nose clean?”

JT grinned. “I’m not in the Army any more, Dad. My lungs can’t handle that much sand, remember?”

“And here I thought it was that you were too pretty for all that combat,” Face teased as his son’s grin widened unrepentantly. “Go, get some sleep. And don’t try to sneak out again, buddy. I know that trick. You have an appointment with the state unemployment office in the morning – and they don’t like it if you don’t show up. You’ve always hated mornings; it’s only gotten worse since you got out.”

JT sighed. “World’s a sad place when a guy like me can’t get a job,” he griped. “They told me that if I went in the military, I’d have excellent job skills.”

Face snorted. “I told you the recruiters lied. You chose, remember, to disbelieve me.”

JT rolled his eyes at the familiar reminder. “Love you, too, Dad.”

Face grinned, but his smile vanished as soon as JT’s back was turned. He had a few phone calls to make; he wasn’t about to go into a meeting blind.


	2. Chapter 2

“Our client is Richard Bancroft and his son, Justin,” Hardison began as he brought up the projector to display their photos. “Justin –”

“No, that’s not who they are,” Eliot said as he took a step into the room. “Did you run a background check on them?”

“Wait, what?” Hardison asked, but his fingers were already flying over his keyboard.

Eliot rolled his eyes, as Parker looked interested. “They walked like Rangers, and they were paying too close attention to where the exits were. The older of the two wasn’t quite buying what you were selling, Parker.”

Parker frowned at that. “I thought that was maybe just me not reading him right.” Eliot shook his head, and her frown deepened.

A moment later, Hardison’s facial recognition software made the connections, and Hardison whistled softly. “Richard Bancroft is _the_ Templeton Peck?” he asked rhetorically as the computer helpfully pulled up the wanted poster.

Parker studied the screen. Not for the first time, she missed Nate and Sophie; they would’ve spotted this sort of concealment sooner. Even as she thought that, she was grateful they weren’t around to see how the team was adjusting to being a trio. “I don’t get it,” Parker said, reading the screen. “Should I know him?”

“Wouldn’t matter if you did,” Eliot replied. “What matters more is why he felt the need to hide.” He nodded in Hardison’s direction. “Got anything?”

“Working on it,” Hardison said. “But I’m getting roadblocks.”

Eliot narrowed his eyes. “Try a search on ‘A-Team.’”

The room was quiet except for the sound of Hardison’s fingers on the keyboard as he demanded answers from his database of sources.

Parker drew her legs up and leaned on her knees as she studied the screen, then turned to Eliot. “What’s bothering you?”

“Last I’d heard,” Eliot said, “the A-Team was retired. If they’re asking us to do something for them, it’s big – and probably involves something they’d take on, if it didn’t mean the stakes were too high for them.”

“You think we’re going to be in over our heads if we say yes. You realize, we kinda already did,” Hardison pointed out.

Eliot nodded. “I know that, but I still don’t like those odds. I’ll feel better about this once we have more information.”

“Well, it’s not a surprise Templeton doesn’t want to get his hands dirty,” Hardison said, pulling up a newspaper article several minutes later. “He’s out on parole, same as the rest of his team. Here’s the article in the _LA Courier_ about ‘the death of vigilante justice’ dated 2002 about them. Says the judge barred them from taking the law in their own hands. It notes the military decided to drop its desertion charges against them after an audit showed the cost of trying to go after them was above and beyond what the GAO approved. It’s a really interesting and surprisingly thorough piece.”

“Not really,” Eliot said. “Look at who wrote it. Amy Allen was with the team. I met her on a hostage rescue mission when I was still in the military; she was in the midst of rescuing herself when I showed up.” Eliot chuckled. “She was disappointed my team wasn’t who she was expecting.”

“What did she say?” Parker asked.

“Just that she was glad the military stopped considering her a federal accessory; made me wonder why. She’d laughed and said that she’d helped the A-Team back in the ‘80s. Explained why she was willing to be in that country as a journalist – she felt she could handle the threats. She’d already freed herself and was working on a complete jailbreak by the time my team got to her and her crew – another few hours; they probably would’ve been free.” Admiration colored Eliot’s voice. “Where are the others in the team?”

“Amy’s working as a reporter for a TV news station in San Francisco,” Hardison said, bringing up a photo of a smiling, silver-haired woman from the station’s website, then photos of the members in turn. “John ‘Hannibal’ Smith is listed as the activities director of a nursing home in Oregon; BA Baracus is here in Portland, working at the Mike's Garage on Everett Street; H.M. Murdock is a flight instructor for a regional airport in Idaho, and Templeton Peck was awarded ‘Salesman of the Year’ for a Chevrolet dealership in Seattle last year. They’re living extremely public lives, as if to say to their parole officers, ‘look, we’re behaving.’ Which, of course, means they’re likely misbehaving in other ways, because seriously, if I were them and did a quarter of the things the Internet is saying they did, then wow, man.”

“And that’s why they came to us,” Eliot concluded. “They can’t afford to break their parole now, not after having time to live normal. What’s the info on Templeton’s son?”

A short time passed before Hardison spoke. “Justin Thomas Peck, goes by the nickname of JT, just got out of the Army four months ago. He was… damn it, Eliot, you scare me sometimes with that recognition ability of yours, you know that?”

“Why was he discharged?” Eliot wanted to know. “If he went straight in off the street, the Army wouldn’t just let him go – they’ve spent too much training him.”

“He said he was in a building that was hit by a bomb. Broke his leg and he had nightmares so bad he couldn’t go back to duty,” Parker said. “He said that’s why he’s so worried about other vets getting into the same situation with this computer consulting firm; he understands what it’s like to want things to work out for the best.”

Eliot considered this information. “How do we want to play this, then? We’ll need to keep the Pecks from butting in.”

“What if we use them?” Parker suggested.

Both men turned to stare at her.

“If they’re like us, they’ll want to pull their friends in anyway,” she pointed out. “Eleven years of normal?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d be bored after that long.”

“That’s because you haven’t known normal that much,” Eliot pointed out. “But a conman of Face’s skills – we could use that. We just gotta be careful.”

“Hey, careful’s my middle name,” Hardison said cheerfully, relieved that Eliot hadn’t vetoed the job entirely.


	3. Chapter 3

JT felt nervous as he met with the Leverage trio. His father was a reassuring presence, the steady constant he’d had all of his life, and he could read his father shared his worry at being asked to meet with the team again. The man JT had thought was no more than the pub’s chef now sat at the table with the blonde woman and the black man they’d already met two days previously. It was early afternoon; the pub was technically closed at this hour.

The chef introduced himself as Eliot Spencer. “We wanted to meet with you again just to be sure we limited collateral damage,” he said. “You lied when you introduced yourselves. Now we understand you want to keep a low profile, Templeton, but we prefer to deal with all the cards showing.”

JT looked worriedly at his father, not sure how he’d react.

Face didn’t seem all that perturbed at being discovered. “I haven’t talked to my friends about this, and really would rather not. Hannibal’s plans always involve blowing something up, and JT can’t be around explosions anymore. If you’ve done as much research as I suspect you have, then you know the latter at least. The word I’ve heard is that you get results in a way that’s quieter than my friends and I ever would.”

“What kind of guarantee do we have that your friends won’t get involved?”

Face spread his hands wide. “Either you trust me and my son or you don’t,” he said evenly.

JT glanced at his father. “Hannibal, BA, Murdock, and my dad had a fight over me enlisting,” he offered. “They haven’t spoken directly since.”

“That true?” Eliot asked Face.

Reluctantly, Face nodded. “None of us wanted him to enlist, not after all the hell we went through ourselves and the hell we went through to keep him off the Army’s radar when he was a baby. But JT was convinced things were different and waited until he didn’t need parental permission to join.” He let out a breath and tried to smile. “I said a lot of things that can’t be forgiven easily, and Amy got tired of trying to get us to forgive.”

JT held his breath as he watched Eliot, Parker, and Hardison consider this information. A wordless exchange between the trio was held, then Parker spoke.

“JT, when you discovered what Gregory Mason was doing, did you ask for a refund?” Parker asked.

“Yeah. I didn’t get far,” JT said, disgusted. “That’s one of the reasons why I was going to break in, but my dad stopped me.”

Parker looked at Face. “Would you be willing to confront Gregory Mason over it? You’ll be wired, and we’ll be a word away if you need help.”

JT held his breath. His father had warned him on the drive down that they were dealing with master criminals, all of whom were wanted by Interpol. Yet for the first time in years, JT had seen his father with that magic spark of what his father and his friends had called “being on the jazz.” JT knew his father missed that feeling, though he’d be the last one to admit it.

“How do you want to play it?” Face asked.

“Just like you’re a concerned father who found out the kind of money that was spent on Mason’s training classes. I need to know how he reacts,” Eliot said. “We’ll take it from there.”

“That’s it?” JT asked, surprised.

“We don’t want you to be involved more than you need to,” Hardison said. “No offense, but you’ll stay safer that way.”

Face studied them. “What do you know that we don’t?”

“Nothing yet,” came the mild reply from Parker. “But the answers will come when you talk to Mason.”

Face grinned. “JT and I will do it.”

As if that had been a foregone conclusion, Hardison handed them a pair of small cases. “These are your ear buds. They’ll connect you with us. Now, the Mason Consulting site said there’s a training class this evening, but that the office will be open for any questions. We’ll follow you there.”

Face and JT nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

While Face and JT demanded a refund, Parker went looking for information. Hardison had been able to obtain the blueprints for the building, and from surveillance the previous night, they knew that Gregory Mason held court in one of the classrooms near the front door.

Parker whistled softly she opened the safe hidden behind a Van Gogh reprint in Gregory Mason’s office. At least a thousand in cash was in the safe, along with a USB key, a stack of magnetic ID cards, and a large bore pistol. Her hands itched to take the cash, but she knew it wasn’t what they sought.

“What did you find, babe?” Hardison asked.

In reply, Parker held up her phone and switched it to the video camera so Hardison could see what she saw.

“That’s a lot of IDs,” the hacker remarked.

“Mason’s on the move,” Eliot warned. “You have less than a minute to get out, Parker.”

Parker quickly closed the safe and reset the art print. She slid a bug under the desk and then, waiting for her moment, ducked out of the office as Gregory Mason entered it.

She met up with JT and Face in the parking lot.

“Mason’s up to something,” Face declared. “I could see how he was just gloating. You know how undignified that is?”

In the best of circumstances, Parker was never entirely sure how to react to other people. She settled for a quizzical look, hoping she had it right.

“Well, it’s completely undignified,” Face said. “You don’t have to react to everything I say, Parker. Sometimes I’m just blowing off steam.” He handed over the earbuds he and his son borrowed. “Did you really steal a Van Gogh just to put it back?”

Parker grinned. “I was bored. I heard you talking to Mason – you’re not a grifter, are you?”

“No, I’m a conman,” Face said with a smile. “These days I limit myself to convincing people they absolutely need a new car. Mason’s been running this con for too long – he’s gotten cocky and thinks he’s fearless. He’s not scared of any state agency coming after him; he’ll just fold and set up shop elsewhere. From the way he had his lines set up, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already down exactly that. ‘So sorry, but the contract is non-refundable after three days.’ Yeah, right.” Face shook his head, disgusted. “I wanted to hit him with something.”

“Dad!” JT said, shocked. “You wanted to hit him?”

“Hey, just because I’d rather protect my hands doesn’t mean I don’t feel the urge,” Face defended himself. “Gregory Mason’s the kind of slime I used to love to con.”

“And he thinks vets are stupider because we volunteered for military duty,” JT added. “You’ll make it right, won’t you?”

“We’ll try,” Parker said with a nod. “You’d better get going before someone comes out and wonders why you’re still here.”

“What about you?” Face asked, ever the gentleman. “You’re not so big you can’t fit into the back of my ‘Vette. We could take you anywhere you need.”

Parker smiled. “Don’t worry about me. My friends are waiting for me up the road.”

Impulsively, JT hugged her, startling her. “Thanks for believing my story.”

Disconcerted again, Parker managed, “You’re welcome,” before walking quickly away.


	5. Chapter 5

_Two days later_

“Guys, we have a problem,” Hardison announced to Parker and Eliot. “I just listened to the bug we put in Mason’s office, and he’s talking about pulling up stakes and leaving. He said he has enough money for the package. Now I don’t know what kind of package it is, but –”

“The IDs – did any of the ones you saw have company names attached to them?” Eliot interrupted.

Parker shook her head. “But if they’re access badges, then he could go…”

“Anywhere he wanted,” Hardison finished. “That’s his angle. He gets an employee into a high-tech company, and it doesn’t matter if they get fired or can’t do the job. He fluffs the resume and sends in someone.”

“You can do that?” Parker asked. “I mean, I watch what you do and I still don’t understand what you do.”

“JT said he only got a day’s worth of coding training, and it wasn’t even the right language for the assignment he was sent on,” Hardison reminded her. “He tried to stick it out, but the project manager was so disgusted that he got sent an incompetent that he just sent JT home that day.”

Parker frowned. “But why wouldn’t the company just take the contractor’s badge?”

“You’d think they’d be smart enough to do that, but how many access badges have you lifted and no one’s noticed?” Eliot pointed out.

Parker preened slightly. “True. So what could Mason do with the badge?”

Hardison answered her. “He just needs an in – and if the company deactivates the badge, that doesn’t mean he can’t walk in and say ‘Oops, my badge got demagnetized by accident.’ So where is he trying to get into?”

“He’d be crazy to try Boeing or one of the big-name tech companies; they’d have defense contracts, and they’d control access to down to a room,” Eliot said. “You can’t fake having access to one of those types of secured areas. Well,” Eliot amended with a shrug, “we could, but from the setup I saw in that building, Gregory Mason doesn’t have the tools we have.”

“But everybody has computers, right?” Parker asked. “What kind of place would prefer to hire a vet and still require an access badge?”

“Hang on,” Hardison said as he typed a command into his keyboard. “Here’s the list of clients,” he said, gesturing to the screen. “And from what I heard today, Mason was targeting this Secured Storage Systems chain.”

“That’s the same chain I used in Boston,” Parker exclaimed. “They don’t ask questions about what you store and they have good security.”

Eliot’s eyes narrowed. “Last time we opened a container of something, we got a surprise.”

Parker sighed with nostalgia. “Pretty money.”

“Yeah, but something tells me it’s not money this time,” Eliot said. “Hardison, any idea which of these Mason was sending people to?”

“Corporate headquarters for the Pacific Northwest region is in north Seattle, according to their website, and they have a facility down the street. And before you ask, yes, I’m getting the floor plans now.”

Eliot nodded. “We need to get eyes on both locations and verify the floor plans.”

“Anything you want me to do?” Parker asked.

“Not right now,” Eliot said. “But when’s the last time you ate something? I swear I hear your stomach growling from over here.”

“I was waiting for you to cook dinner,” Parker said reasonably.

Eliot rolled his eyes while Hardison chuckled. Eliot glared at him.

“Entirely your fault, man,” Hardison said, still chuckling.

“Hey. Is there something wrong with me liking what Eliot makes? It’s not just food.”

“No, babe,” Hardison hastened to reassure her. “Just try not to make a habit of skipping meals, okay?”

Parker grimaced, but stepped out of the pub’s back room to order herself dinner.

“What aren’t you telling her?” Eliot asked when she was out of earshot.

Hardison looked worried. “Just – you know how you get that feeling that nothing’s gonna go right?”

“Don’t say it,” Eliot snapped.

Undeterred, Hardison went on, “Sorry, but I’m inclined to tip the cops off when we’re done investigating, and not get any further involved.”

Eliot sighed heavily. “Good to know it wasn’t just me. Going after a guy who’s been collecting access badges feels like we’re opening a Pandora’s box.”

Hardison nodded. “We’re committed now. Parker won’t stop.”

“I could arrange a distraction for the two of you,” Eliot began, but Hardison just shook his head.

“Save it for Valentine’s Day,” Hardison told him. His eyes met Eliot’s. “Just don’t tell me you told me so when this is over.”

Eliot grasped his shoulder and smiled thinly. “You know I won’t.”

Hardison rolled his eyes. He knew the hitter would gloat; it was part of the deal. Hardison’s part was to make sure they had the information to proceed, and the stakes were high. The hacker knew every job was run as if it were their last; he just feared the day when it truly would be. Grimly, he returned his focus to gathering as much information as he could. Somewhere out in cyberspace was the key to Gregory Mason’s madness. All Hardison had to do was find it.


	6. Chapter 6

“Dad, I'm worried.” JT sat down in the armchair next to the couch, but his posture was of exaggerated casualness.

Face groaned. He knew that tone, that look, and braced himself for trouble. “Over what now?”

“Do you think they'll be okay?”

Face knew which “they” his son meant. “JT, they've been able to outrun the FBI and Interpol. I only managed to outrun the US Army. I can't imagine the resources it takes to outrun two police agencies.”

“But it's been a week and we haven't heard from them. Hardison said he'd call when they were done.”

“JT, what are you conspiring to do now?” Face asked, exasperated. He set aside the book he’d been reading and surrendered to the fact that finding out how it ended was not going to happen like he’d planned.

“Nothing. Just…I liked Parker.”

“Parker is involved with Hardison, or did you not notice?”

“I noticed,” JT said, irritated. “Just…she reminded me of Murdock, when he’s trying to be sane and the drugs are messing with his perception.”

“How did your meeting with the job counselor go?” Face tried changing the subject. He was well aware of his son’s affection for Murdock, who’d often volunteered to keep an eye on JT while Face ran cons for the team. Face knew, too, that once JT liked someone, he was likely to go to extremes for them, a habit Face had tried to break, with little success.

“He submitted my resume to a couple more positions,” JT said, sitting up. “So the answer’s no, we’re not going to even check to see if Parker and her guys are okay?”

“Justin Thomas, you are going to be the death of me, I swear to God.”

The familiar complaint made JT sigh. "But Dad," he began.

“Weren't you just reminding me you're 22?” Face asked mildly.

He got a glare in reply.

“Then quit whining like you're nine. You need to let this go. I'm out on parole, remember?”

JT rose and paced the living room. "I can't let it go, Dad. It gets messed up in my head. What if Gregory decides to hurt them? You saw how cold he was, how he didn’t care who he stepped on? Eliot might make it, but Hardison and Parker – I’m not sure how they’d handle it.”

Face eyed his son. “You found out something,” he stated.

In reply, JT held up a messenger bag emblazoned with the Mason Consulting logo. “You know how I thought I was smelling Semtex? I realized it was coming from this. There’s a set of instructions, too, to leave it at the company Gregory sent me to, and a radio tracker. Dad, that company is a network service provider. If Mason’s doing this with all of his employees, he’s setting up everyone to take the fall when he sets these off – even if they don’t leave them at the company like he wants.”

Face groaned as he realized the implications.

Sensing he had the advantage, JT pressed his point, leaning forward intently. “We need to get Parker, Hardison, and Eliot out of there before we call the cops. At least, I need to know they're safe. If they managed to call the cops, it'll be all over the news - it's too big of a thing to miss.”

Face rubbed his eyes, wincing as his mind raced with the possibilities.

“I can’t do this alone, Dad. I want to rescue them, but I need someone to watch my back. Can you at least bury the hatchet with Hannibal and the guys, just for this? Please?”

“You realize you're grounded until you're forty, and if by some miracle my parole officer doesn't hear about this –”

Looking relieved, JT ignored him and handed him a phone. “I know, I know, you'll never forgive me.”


	7. Chapter 7

The door to the back office blew open with a controlled pop. “Need a rescue?” the silver-haired man asked as he strode confidently into the room, grinning around a cigar. A large, burly black man walked in beside him. Both carried semi-automatic rifles and were loaded for bear. “JT sent us. I’m Hannibal Smith.”

Bound and gagged, Eliot could only nod as Hannibal's companion worked quickly to free him. Eliot’s wrists were bloody where he’d tried to break free of the plastic zip ties.

“Name’s BA,” the black man introduced himself as he whipped off his bandana and wiped off Eliot’s wrists before using a knife to slice through the zip ties. “You gonna be okay?”

Eliot met the man’s eyes. “Be better when Gregory Mason pays for this.”

“Don’t you worry about him,” Hannibal said. “We have that covered.”

BA dug into a pocket and quickly bandaged Eliot’s wrists. Eliot nodded his thanks, but didn’t rise from the metal chair to which he’d been secured.

“Where's Face?" Eliot asked. He watched BA turn his attention to Parker, who was unconscious and strapped to the desk across the room from where Eliot was.

“With Murdock, dealing with the guards around Mason. Where's your third partner?”

“Mason put him to work on building the bomb codes," Eliot replied. “Hardison should be in the executive office unless they moved him. He hasn’t said anything over his comm since yesterday, so I have no idea what’s going on anymore.” Eliot tried not to let his concern bleed through his voice, but from the look on Hannibal’s face, he wasn’t successful.

“This is Parker?” BA asked, kneeling beside the unconscious thief.

“Yeah,” Eliot confirmed. “Bastard drugged her a few hours ago.”

Hannibal assessed Eliot and Parker in one sweeping glance. "She'll need to be carried out. Can you do it?”

Bruised, battered, but not broken, Eliot smiled thinly. “Ninety pounds of crazy in a ten pound bag? Easy.” Eliot braced himself to stand, but something about the way Hannibal studied him made Eliot pause. Hannibal had the gaze of someone who’d commanded a Special Forces team; there was no lying to a man like that. “That is, if my ankles weren’t broken. I took offense at Parker getting hurt; they didn't like my response. You’ll want to get out of here fast. Mason has this place wired to blow. Get Parker and Hardison out. I’ll be okay."

Hannibal snorted. “We figured you’d defend them to your dying breath. Excuse me.” Hannibal stepped out of the room, and Eliot tried to breathe past the pain he was feeling as BA lifted Parker in a firefighter’s carry.

Hannibal returned with JT, who was talking to someone in a way Eliot recognized. Eliot’s eyes widened as he realized the young ex-Ranger hadn’t actually returned the ear buds he’d been loaned; Parker hadn’t checked the case to see if the ear buds were actually the same as what Hardison had supplied. “We’ll meet you out front. The charges are set in the doorways, so be careful, Dad.” JT turned to Eliot.

“Come on, tough guy, we have a facility to blow up,” he said as he helped Eliot to his feet. “Murdock and my dad have evacuated Hardison. They’re tying Mason and his goons up to the front gate.”

“I thought you said you can’t be around explosions,” Eliot said suspiciously.

JT grinned. “No, my dad said that, and you know how con men are.”

“Let’s not blow this place up,” Eliot suggested through a sharp inhale as he started to move with JT’s help. “There’s an elementary school less than half a mile up the road, and it’s a school day. The debris field –”

JT turned to Hannibal.

“We’ll just let Mason think that,” Hannibal confided. “Much as I love a good explosion, today’s not a good day.” He winked at Eliot when JT’s head was turned, and Eliot breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to add to JT’s nightmares.


	8. Chapter 8

“In national news today, police say they have uncovered evidence of a terror plot that would have blown up multiple businesses and implicated numerous individuals. The evidence was found when police were anonymously tipped off to the Secured Storage Solutions corporate headquarters in Seattle, which was also wired to blow. The CEO of a local consulting firm, Gregory Mason, was found tied to the front gate of the storage facility. A video of him was released to the media, in which he claims to be the mastermind behind the plot and expresses strong anti-military sentiment. Mason has retained a lawyer, and proclaims that he was framed by a mysterious group claiming to be ‘friends of the A-Team.’” Amy Allen held her smile for the camera as the co-anchor pressed for more details.

In the planning room behind the brewpub, Face turned to his son as Hardison shut off the newsfeed. “She’s going to yell,” Face told JT, “and you are going to be the one to explain to her what, exactly, happened.”

JT winced, and Parker laughed. Wide-eyed, she asked, “Was I not supposed to do that? Wait, why would she yell?”

“Amy’s the closest thing I have to a mom,” JT explained, still looking rueful. “She’s really going to yell, isn’t she?”

“She risked everything for us,” Face noted. “It’s partly because of her we were able to get a lawyer who not only believed us, but was able to convince a judge that we were going to be law-abiding citizens, and no, Amy yelling at you is not going to get you out of anything you have to do in the next century.”

Parker put a hand over her mouth to try to hide her smile at Face’s words. All of the Leverage crew sported assorted bruises; Hardison had a cut over his eye, but Face sensed they’d be just fine in a few days.

Hardison and Eliot tactfully ignored Parker.

“Thanks for your help,” Eliot said from his position on the couch. A crutch was propped nearby and his ankles were in casts.

Hardison picked up an envelope and handed it to JT. “That’s your money back plus a little extra. We figured you wouldn’t mind getting something for your interest, and for saving us.”

“My pleasure,” JT said. “Dad and the guys are talking again, and I haven’t seen them on the jazz like that in years.”

Face looked at his son, astonished. “You did that just for us?”

JT shrugged awkwardly. “Partly, but mostly because, well. It was the right thing.” He pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket and handed it to Hardison. “These are really the earbuds this time. Sorry, Parker, but after watching my dad talk to Gregory, I wasn’t sure you weren’t in over your heads.”

Parker eyed him carefully, then stepped close, and hugged him. Then she walked away as Hardison and Eliot looked at each other, shocked.

Quietly, Face asked, “That doesn’t happen often, does it?”

Hardison shook his head. “No is an understatement.”

Face nodded his understanding. “Thanks for making sure we didn’t show up on any of the video surveillance. Come on, JT, we need to get home and let these fine people be.”

Once the Pecks had exited the brewpub, Eliot turned to Hardison as Parker handed him the plastic bag. “You’re making new ones, aren’t you? I don’t trust that they didn’t fake us out again.”

“Oh yeah,” the hacker said. “Already started.”

 

_finis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whee, this was fun! I hope you enjoyed this adventure as much as I enjoyed writing it in less than a week. :-)


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